


It All Started With the Riddles: A Harry Potter AU

by DiamondsandPhoenixFire



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Fluff, Gen, Imported from FF.net, Kidfic, Pre-Canon, Somewhat Good Voldemort (Harry Potter), Tom Riddle is Not Voldemort, kid!Tom Riddle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:14:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25172194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiamondsandPhoenixFire/pseuds/DiamondsandPhoenixFire
Summary: She tries so hard to please him; why not give her a chance? Harry Potter AU where Tom Riddle Sr. stays with Merope, so their son never becomes Voldemort. Revised and to be continued in 2020,originally posted to FF.net Aug 8, 2013
Relationships: Merope Gaunt & Tom Riddle, Merope Gaunt/Tom Riddle Sr., Tom Riddle Sr. & Tom Riddle
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39





	1. Where it all began

**Author's Note:**

> It’s been years and, among other things, I’ve switched cities, career aspirations, and genders since I wrote these. I’m leaving the originals up so I can compare and see how far I’ve come - maybe it’ll be interesting for some of you as well! I do not intend to continue updating the FF.net versions. I’m mostly double posting these to FF.net as a courtesy notice for those who’ve faved and/or followed them - some very recently. 
> 
> See, you were vindicated in showing interest in that seven year old fic! As it turns out, the author is losing their goddamn mind in quarantine because they’re trying to apply to epidemiology grad programs/assistantships but the world is on fire and full of plague and a gay can only check the job board so many times a day, you know? Your interest motivated me to do something other than be anxious, so thank you.
> 
> This one was started as a request. I got just far enough along on it to get a happy dance from the person who requested it and then I promptly forgot about it for seven years. Whoops.

"Well, when we first met, your daddy didn't know I was a witch."

She looked down at her son in his bed, charming and bubbly in his youth, surrounded by expensive stuffed toys. Her husband, Tom Riddle, stood next to her, his hand on her shoulder. Young Tom wriggled deeper under the covers, making himself comfortable to hear the story again.

"We hadn't been together long when I became pregnant with you. At first, I thought he was going to walk out!"

Tom Sr. added, "Being a dad didn't come easy. At first, I didn't see what all the fuss was about. You were so little then! But then you started to grow up into such a handsome lad, and I realized I wanted to stick around to be your daddy. The fact that your momma came from royalty didn't hurt, either." He grinned, toothily as ever. "I was going to have a little prince, of sorts, even though she didn't have a cent when I met her."

"Yes, Tommy. I was pregnant and penniless and so afraid I was going to be alone! Who knows what might have happened to us then. But do you remember what's special about our family? Do you remember where we came from?"

"HOGWARTS!" shrieked the little boy. "Our greatgreatgreat grandpa helped found a magic school and I'm gonna be a wizard soon!"

She smiled. "That's right. It's where this diadem and this ring came from. They belonged to Salazar Slytherin, many generations ago."

"What's 'generations?'"

"When parents have children, that's adding a second generation. And when they have their own kids, that's a third."

"That takes a long time!" exclaimed Tom Jr.

"It does! Hogwarts has been around a long time, and it'll be wonderful for you to go and learn," his mother replied.

"And then you can get really good at magic, like your momma here, and bring us home more of those great big gold coins!" Tom Sr. beamed.

"You skipped, you skipped!" accused the little boy. "Tell about the part where you told Dad you have magic."

Merope smiled. "How did it go again, Tom?"

Tom Sr. smiled. "Oh, I remember asking you about that shiny diadem. Something very expensive looking, fitting for a Riddle. And that was the moment she chose to tell me. She said, 'You wonder where I got this from? It's an old family heirloom, but we have a secret.' I was worried she was trying to cover up a bad business deal or something, that her momma cheated somebody. But no. She made me sit down, and then she lifted it up to me, without even touching it. I couldn't believe my eyes! Just floating through the air, nothing under it at all. I waved my hands over and under it, looking for a string, but there wasn't one. She set it down in my lap and muttered some words and made some other things fly too, pens and fruit and cups off the table. All these normal things, doing this extraordinary dance. And then your momma told me that some of those old stories are true. There is magic, and she could do it."

The boy grinned. "Momma's magic! And I'm going to be magic too! I'll be the best there ever was!"

She kissed his forehead. "Sounds like a true Slytherin to me."


	2. Here be muggles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More... Voldemort kidfic, I guess?? Enjoy!

Tom barely slept the day before he went into town to the market. Merope had told him all about it: how to tell a ripe watermelon, how to tell who else was magic. 

When the day came, she lead him out to the end of the path and opened the gate for him. Once they’d passed the line of carefully trimmed hedge, Merope took a look around, announced, “That ought to do it. Take my arm?”

Young Tom grabbed hold of her with such glee that it nearly knocked her off balance. Once he was secure, he heard a CRACK! and his vision started to swim. 

He stumbled and fell to his knees against cobbles. Merope helped him up and brushed the dirt off the fine fabrics of his clothes. “A nice royal gray,” she’d said when she brought them home for him. “Befitting a prince.”

Young Tom rubbed at the scuff on one of his knees. Merope planted a kiss on top of his head. “It’s always dizzying the first time. We just Apparated.” 

She took his hand and led him toward the noise and the crush of people, magic and muggle alike. Several times her grip tightened just in time to keep young Tom from bolting after someone in the crowd. “Those people had an OWL,” he whined, but Merope was busy examining some boring peppers. Tom had seen a thousand peppers, but hardly ever an owl. “I want to SEEEEEEEE.”

“Tom,” Merope warned. And then the world flashed, and there was a sudden burst of light. His mother dropped his hand and Tom tumbled over backwards. 

When the bright smears faded from his vision, Merope was pacifying the suspicious shopkeeper, who had one eyebrow raised and their hands on their hips. “His flashlight,” she explained. “We got him one on a little keychain and we’re trying to teach him not to wave it to get out attention all the time.” Tom started to correct her, that it was magic, he did magic!! But she had got hold of him by the upper arm and gave him a warning squeeze.

The shopkeeper softened a little. “I get that. I’ve got three of my own at home, and I remember them at that age. Make sure you keep him from putting anything in his ears! Oh, how my youngest cried.” 

Merope handed over some muggle money for the produce - even Tom knew they were muggle rich but wizard poor - and whisked him into they alley.

“You’re going to have to learn to control that accidental magic,” said Merope, evenly. She turned her wrist over and inspected it. It was a little bit pinked, like a mild sunburn. “Let’s go home. Soon I’ll start working with you on it.”


	3. A sheltered garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I initially wanted green flowers for Slytherin colors but I didn’t like any of the green flowers I could find. 
> 
> Fun fact from my seven tabs of plant research: usually green flowers are either white but have been dyed, or made of sepals (the leafy covers that protect flower buds) instead of petals.

“Roses are a regal flower, Tommy,” clucked Merope, down on her knees in the backyard of the a Riddle house. “They’re graceful without being soft. If you try to damage one, look.” She gave one branch an affectionate tug, and young Tom saw the wicked thorns. “You get cut. Thats’s what it means to be noble. You have to have a way to defend against those who would want to hurt you. And there are a lot of them.” She lets the frond go and it springs back into place. Tom hangs on her words like he’s been pinned to them. 

“Do you know why I stopped you from telling that woman at the shops what really happened?” Tom shook his head no. He folded his arms, suddenly realizing whee this was going. 

“Magic is great! Our greatgreatgreat grandpa wasn’t ashamed of being magic. Why do I have to be?”

“Don’t talk like that,” she replied, a little warning edge showing through as she stands. “It’s not about shame. It’s about being smart. Do you want to give out this information to anyone? Let them earn it. Trust is earned.” She softens a little, seeing his pout. “There is ugly history between muggles and magic folk, just like between Brits and Scots. Okay? There are more of them than us, and if something goes sour, it’s easier for muggles to call on muggles than wizards to call on wizards.”

Young Tom scuffed his feet in the dirt. “I wish I could tell them about magic.” 

His mother smiled. “I wish you could, too. But I’d rather my boy be safe.”

Tom nodded. Merope squatted again, tugging at little shoots of grass that have tried to encroach on the roses’ territory. Tom had hardly seen his mom or Gran cook or mend or anything - his daddy hired a lady from town. She was a witch. He’d asked and he knew she was safe to tell. But the lady, Missus Longname, as Tom called her, wasn’t allowed to touch the rose garden. Merope always sent her away and sat down among the bushes herself.

“My black roses are starting to bloom. Look, here’s one of the first blossoms.” Merope holds up a half-furled bloom. 

“That’s not black!” Tom cried. “That’s purple! Why don’t you make it magic so it’s black for real?”

Merope shook her head. “Magic is one thing we can do,” she said. “But sometimes, we have to use other methods to get what we want.”

“I still say it’s not a black rose,” Tom added, peevishly. 

Merope shrugged. “One day, I’ll get a true black. Perhaps after many patient years.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing Voldemort kidfic in 2020 but quarantine is going fine y'all


End file.
